| ++++MANIC |
[Aug. 23rd, 2008|11:22 pm] |
Instructed with random movements of a hand.
The cold breeze of a foreign wind lashes at the skin.
Suspended
in the memory of emotion.
I gasp for air until
I can sense love.
An acquired connection.
A desperate want.
As horrible as it may seem,
it brings
sense,
and
meaning
to my very breath.
Cold inside,
humid on the surface.
Almost as if I'm just a corpse laying
on a hot beach.
Rotting.
Forgotten.
I read this in a book today.
"What I can say, I'm a sucker for abandoned stuff, misplaced stuff, forgotten stuff, any old stuff which despite the light of progress and all that, still vanishes very day like shadows at noon, goings unheralded, passings unmourned, well you get the drift.
As a counselor once told me--a Counselor for disaffected youth, I might add: "You like that crap because it reminds you of you." Couldn't have said it better, or put it more bluntly. Don't even disagree with it either. Seems pretty dead on.."
I feel exactly the same as this paragraph.
Maybe now, through this passage.. Some asshole or maybe even someone important can understand me just a bit better, and maybe feel a bit of sympathy for someone who has been feeling empathetic and sympathetic for everyone else, his whole fucking life.
PUTS DOWN LAPTOP. GATHERS THOUGHTS. RETURNS TO MANIC THOUGHT PROCESS.
END.
|
|
|
| Barely hanging onto the high from last night that just won't seem to go away.. |
[Apr. 7th, 2008|01:21 pm] |
Staring blankly into the faces of
people I'll never know.
I timidly step forward
and wrap a bandana around my neck.
Whispers and conversations that I'll
never hear a word of.
Get togethers, and good times that
I don't want to be a part of.
There is so much that can be learned
from a single individual.
The problem at hand...
I could care less about them.
What I care about are things like..
Why is my writing hand so damn shaky..
Or why do I need to continually
put myself under the influence?
I guess I must have a problem when
my girlfriend is telling me I have to calm down.
What if I can't quit...
What if its not under my control anymore.
I think I'm losing touch day by day..
I'm spiraling and losing..
Losing touch,
losing feeling..
I love her,
but we're all losing touch..
|
|
|
| + + + |
[Dec. 12th, 2005|10:45 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Its just a bunch of noise____ | ] |
Sorry, but friends only..
******************************************************************************** |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
iamafixture's journal
drained